ffiOtt/S*jmrFFs RROWSOF DESIRE5 November /99O CONTENTS 4 Father, Forgive Me 5 Death Comes Calling 7 Songs for the Dying 1OFamous Last Words 11Pfaylist #1: Suicide 12 Death 13 More Or Less Than Just Love 14 Early Morning, Almost Anywhere 15 Deathlist: uK1976 Fatalities 16 Stretcher Bearer 18 Deathshead Revisited 24 One Man's Heaven 25 A Hell of a Job 26 Pfaylist #2: Marc Almond Special 27 Atter the First Death 29 Advertisement 3OOn the lmprobability of my Existence 31 Death's Diary 32 (Untitled) 33 Death in TV Movies 34 Bright Winged, With Pale Hands 35 Playlist #3: Death Top Ten 35 Pfaylist #4: Abortion 36 A True Faith 37 | Drink Beer, Me...Continued 39 Loco Citato 44 Contributors 45 And Finally... (* an"toffi b Cheslin FATHER.FORGIVEME S VOUay I dreamedabout you last night,so I thoughtl'd bettercome and see you today and talk about it. lt was a very strangedream indeed, and you know I neverused to rememberthem. I'd come overto mother'sto see her, and you were there.You'd come back. You lookedsomewhat rough, unshaven and wearingthat old gardeningcoat. You were grinningsheepishly, as thoughto implyit had all been a bit of a sillycock-up, and of coursemother was overjoyed,hugging you and crying.I don't rememberany words beingspoken. In fact, it was rather like a silent film. I can only rememberfeeling resentful,and thinking: You can't do thisl lAe fucking burned and buriedyou/ i might havebeen afraidthat eventuallyyou'd turn and chastiseme for not cryingwhen I saw your body laid out at the Undertakers,or at the funeral,or aftenvards,when we came back to the grave and saw all the flowers. You made the local papers, you know. Parish Counci//orDbs..., well, about what you'd expect. I expectmother still has the clipping. On October 1sth, 1981,lreceived a phone call from mother in the early morning,telling me you'd been taken to hospital,having suffered a stroke duringthe night. She told me not to worry, as the doctor had said it only appearedto be mild.Just afterlunch l receivedanother call, at work.lt's saidthat peoplesay strange thingsunder stress or when stunnedby shockingnews. Sor4t boss, can / have the rest of the day off? On/y my DadSl4st dr?d. I don't recallthe exact words of the reply,but "Go on, piss off out of here" was the gist, deliveredin as sympathetica fashionas the situationwarranted. Almost fatherly. Most of what followedwas typicallydreamlike. For the first time in my life I was "the man of the family", makingarrangements, greeting guests, shaking hands and thankingpeople for theirconcern. I spentmost of the time worryingabout mother,who went to piecesto such an extentthat she had even startedsmoking again (althoughshe has subsequentlyquit for the secondtime in her life).How did you expect her to be? She was alwaysthe stay-at-homewhile you were at Council,School Governors and the like.She'd always prayedthat out of the two of you, she would die first. When we "viewedthe body", she becamealmost hysterical and practicallycollapsed. Her friend Ruby was with us. fortunately,so I could have my momentalone. I was silent,but touchedyour cheek briefly.Christ. you were cold. Mothercried all the way throughthe serviceand the "reception"back at the house.All of the familywere very good, evenyour brother.I was beingthe good host,solemn and controlled,locking away any feelingsI might have had, only for motherto berateme laterwith "You neverseemed very upset when your father died". Now this dreamdisturbs me, so I felt I had to explainit to you, to put my side of the story.I know, I never cried. Father,forgive me. 4 DEATHCOMES CALLING bira Shearman It is eightyears since Wendy died.There is stilla hole in my life.lt is a minorirritation, like the hollowin my mouth that never quite filled in after I had my wisdom tooth removed.I live with it but I feel the lack. For her parentsit is an abyss... I rememberthe day she died. She had been due to take an exam in the departmentwhere I workedand I had askedthe friendwho was co-ordinatingthe studentsto let me knowwhen she got in. I thoughtit would be nice to arrange a night out to celebratethe end of term. I was rather taken aback when he said she hadn'tshown up. I checkedagain the next day to find that nothinghad been heard,so I checkedwith some of her classmatesand then phonedmy Mum.Wendy was missing.lt seemsthat her clotheshad been found on the bankof the riverTay and Wendywas beingsearched for... A keen swimmerand sub-aqua enthusiast,Wendy was thoughtto have gone for a dip off Wormit beach, just upriverfrom the Tay Bridge.The currentswere bad there,and if a swimmerwent too far out or got into any sort of difficultythe river dragged them under. In this case her parentsonly had to wait ten days before her body was washedup down the coast.Sometimes the rivernever gives up its dead. That is a devastatingthing to come to terms with,the death of a friendyour own age. Somehowit makes you vulnerabletoo. In the front line. Death beeomes somethingreal and imminent,not far away and somehowromantic, But Wendy was not the first of my friendsto die young, nor was she going to be the last.Over the yearsthe listhas grown,the newshas becomeeasier to believebut not to accept. We neverhad many pets when I was young.All that theoryof teachingchildren about life and death sort of passedme by. I liked keepingfish (the only pet I was allowedat the time),but earlyacquaintance with the fish you win at fetes made me quite philosophicalabout their lifespan.lf they died you buriedthem and bought a new one. There was the morbid fascinationwith graves and all the paraphernaliaof death when I was about 11. At school we had to bury one of the hamsters,and I rememberspending most of my breaktimestending the graveand buildingbigger and bettermemorials to the animalwe had lovedfor three years. About this time my paternalgrandfather died, but it didn't impingeon my immediatelife. I was considered too young to attendthe funeraland he had neverbeen a big part of my life;we didn'teven live in the same town- Although I kn.e..14rlhe loss in my head I didn't feel it in my heart. I was much more fascinatedby death as a romanticabstract than as a realitywhich might affect me. Yes,l becameateenager,andagonised over the lady of the Camelliasand read endlesslyof the FirstWorld War and Arthurranlegends. The futilityand inevitabilityof death was somethingshining and wonderfulto me. I lived in a world where consumptionwas a gentlecough, a few spots of blood on a handkerchiefand a slippingaway to a better world. Death in battle was somethingto glorify,my dreams and storieswere peopledwith paleyoung poetswho sacrificedthemselves for theirfellow men. I didn'tthink of the other side of things:the humanrealities of blood and pain and infection;soldiers in dirty littledressing stations losing limbs because of gangrene;mustard gas victimsliterally coughing their guts up whilepoliticians made propagandavictory speeches. Someone should have broadened my readinghorizons a bit, althoughthe thingsI was readingat the time reallypulled few punches.Perhaps it was just my attitude of mind and my age. I was the sort of teenagerwho walkedalone, who wore blackas often as possible,who sat in darkenedrooms burningincense and listeningto LeonardCohen albums... and I meanthe earlyones that madeyou feel cuttingyour throatwas the only rightthing for a humanbeing to do. Death was never a taboo subject as far as I recall.To me it was fascinating,but in an abstract,intellectual way. I mourned long and creativelywhen one of my favouriteactors died, I wrote poems and drew pictures for him, even learned to play the guitar so I could play a piece that he had played on TV. Yet death that should have been more immediate and personal didn't seem to affect me as much. My maternal grandmotherdied, and the parentsof two of my schoolfriends,but althoughthese events rippledthe surface they didn't stir the depths.I still romanticised,I stillwanted to die young and beautifully,leaving a shining legacy. DEATHCOMES CALLING What finally put paid to that was the death of two of my friends.lt was Easterand Anne was drivingup from Edinburghto Wick to visit her parents.The car was involvedin a crash,and Anne died in the helicopteron the way to hospital.My mothertold me when I phonedhome the next day, havingheard it on the radio.I was stunned.I went throughthe motionsof phoningthe otherfriends who knewAnne and sent flowersto a familyI did not know.Anne was a young teacherwho had come to my schoolwhen I was in the sixthyear. She neveractually took any of my classes,but due to our involvementin variousschool clubs Anne and I and anothergirl, Sue, becamevery closefriends. We had kept up with each otherwhen I left school,making a point of gettingtogethor in the holidayswhenever possible, swapping stories and recommendingbooks. I stillhave the lasttwo booksshe lentme. Annewas 26. Less than a week laterI had a messagefrom the DomesticBursar of the Hallsto phone home. I couldn't thinkwhat was wrong,but felt that somethingwas. I phoned.My mothertold me that Sue was dead,could I phoneTricia? Somehow there was no disbelief,Anne's death had preparedme in a way. But Sue had been so alivewhen l'd last seen her at Christmas.She was young and in love and full of plansfor the future.I calledTricia, who was also a schoolfriendand shareda flat with Sue in Glasgowwhere they were both studying English and Drama. lt seemed Sue had been ill with 'flu, must have had some hitherto undiscoveredheart defect and had done too much too soon.